


From Where the Light Rises

by catwalksalone



Series: When Two Go Together Along the Way [5]
Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Comment Fic, Families of Choice, Non-sexual Romantic Relationship, Other, Traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 22:05:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9092572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catwalksalone/pseuds/catwalksalone
Summary: Robbie lost the habit of Christmas along with Val. There was supposed to be light and joy in it, wasn't there? And that wasn't anywhere he could find it, nor likely to neither, being as how he wasn't exactly looking.

(Takes place a few months after Neither/Nor but easily read as a stand-alone.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Comment fic written for jes. Lewis^Hathaway lives on!
> 
> Title stolen from the English translation of Gaudete.

Robbie lost the habit of Christmas along with Val. There was supposed to be light and joy in it, wasn't there? And that wasn't anywhere he could find it, nor likely to neither, being as how he wasn't exactly looking. With the kids all grown and far away, there wasn't even anyone to pretend for, and so the first Christmas in their little house Robbie was happy to let James get on with it. He didn't go much in for decoration it seemed, though four Sundays before Christmas a quiet, evergreen wreath appeared on the broad windowsill of the bay window. It was studded with four candles: three purple, one pink. Robbie watched as James lit one candle--one of the purples--and stood by it for a minute, head bowed. Then he turned and grinned at Robbie, the sudden shift from stillness to movement disorientating, like ears popping on a sedate ramble up a hill.

"Isn't there some rugby you should be yelling at?" 

"S'pose so." Robbie picked up the remote control and switched on the TV, enjoying the faint scent of fir sap and the warmth of James's shoulder against his.

***

"It's freezing," complained Robbie, huffing into his cupped hands and stamping his feet for emphasis. Even this early the frost was already biting, settling onto cars like fine lace and sheathing the grass like scabbards.

James swivelled, coat flaring, and started to walk away. "Come on, old man, the more you move the more your blood gets pumping."

Robbie grumbled something about his days of needing things pumping being long past, thank you very much, but he quickened his pace to an ungainly half-skip, half-jog and caught up all the same.

"See?" asked James after a few minutes of walking in silence. And Robbie did see. Houses sparkled with light, the warm yellow glow of life-goes-on leaking from square windows, blue and white icicles strung along house fronts, trees wrapped in fat bulbs, multi-coloured, red, white, fading, flashing or shining steady into the dark.

"That Saint Lucy knew what she was about."

"There's something to be said for celebrating light at our darkest moments, no matter the origin, but yes, she did."

"Did she know about frost, too? Cheapest decoration on the street, and the prettiest too, I reckon."

"And the most slippery. Which reminds me, I'm not a bedpan kind of person, so no breaking any bones. Here." James proffered his arm. Robbie hesitated, ready to claim his independence. James lifted his eyebrows. Under the streetlight Robbie could see the tip of his nose tinged with cold, a matching spot on each cheek. Who needed a hot water bottle when you had this? 

Robbie put his hand through James's crooked elbow. "But what are your feelings on hot chocolate?" he asked.

***

On the third Sunday James lit the pink candle.

"Why's that one a different colour?" Robbie couldn't help but ask.

" _Gaudete in Domino semper: iterum dico, gaudete._ Or, putting it simply, it's about joy."

"Joy, eh?" 

"Yep."

"I like the sound of that."

James shrugged. "Who wouldn't?"

When he went to bed, Robbie pinched out the three lit candles, leaving the pink one till last. James was in the kitchen, making more noise with a kettle than seemed appropriate for anyone as good as him at being unobtrusive. 

"Not a bad thing at all, joy," said Robbie, half to the candle, half to himself. Maybe tomorrow he'd raise the idea of a Christmas tree. He was a spruce man, himself, but he could be convinced.


End file.
